The Solitude of Passion (15 page)

“Max”—she moans—“I love you so much.” It wrenches from her in a burst of passion.

If there was one moment in my life I could replay over and over, it would be this one, but I won’t have to.

I’ll be living it.

Three Years Later

Lee

“So are you going natural?” I ask Kat as we watch the waves crash over the shore from the back patio.

Four months ago they implanted five embryos, and three of them took. We sit outside on the deck, facing the listless horizon as the fog ebbs over the sand, crawling along the dunes like a plague of gossamer spiders. The salt ripens my senses, leaches onto my skin in a humid, sticky layer. It’s so hazy this morning you can’t see the water. You need to have faith it’s there—that it won’t whisper the words
I’ll be right back
then disappear forever.

“Are you kidding?” Her eyes bulge at the thought. “Hell, yes, I’m going natural. I have a way higher pain threshold than you.”

“As evidenced by?” I’m completely amused. Kat for sure has no idea that the threshold which she speaks of actually consists of
pain
. She believes eating three cheeseburgers in a row qualifies her for a morphine drip.

“For starters, I’m married to Steve.” Evidently there has been some strife in the Robinson household. Three IVF treatments have the ability to land a nail in the casket of any legal union. Rumor has it it’s a real bitch on their bank account, too.

“Anyway,” I whisper, “all I have to say is thank God for Max. If I were left to my own devices, I would never have gotten that epidural with Eli. Max was like a pit bull with the nurse until she called the anesthesiologist.” Max has proved to be my hero in every way. The night we had our precious baby boy was amazing. The only difference between that birth and Stella’s was that Max was actually in the delivery room while the miracle happened.

“That’s because he loves you.” She looks disgusted by the thought. “You guys are sick, you know that? I’ve seen seventh graders with more ability to curb their hormones.” She blinks a sarcastic smile as she pulls apart the donut in front of her—jelly filled—my favorite.

“He does love me. By the way, we’re trying again. Are you going to abuse that thing or eat it?” I reach over and pinch off the side before popping it in my mouth.

“You’re trying?” Her face smooths out with surprise. “How exiting! How long did it take with Eli?”

I glance over at my dark-haired boy. He wears his father’s features like a mask. He’s gorgeous to the point of agony.

Katrice has been hinting nonstop how nice it would be to have a cousin close in age. The veins in her neck protrude like blue cords beneath her parchment-like skin. Something tells me she’s going to get more translucent as the pregnancy goes on. She’ll be my sister, the ghost.

“Honeymoon baby. Same with Stella.” I wince when I say it. Different honeymoon. Different husbands. I hadn’t thought of Mitch for almost two weeks. I hate when he comes at me like that, out of the blue like a poltergeist on the attack. Of course, I see him in Stella’s room on her nightstand, but I’m almost immune to that picture now. Almost. It’s self-preservation. I can only take so much heartbreak. He’s so damn handsome in that picture. He burns into my mind so easily I try not to look at him anymore. I keep telling myself it’s not Mitch. That it’s just some placeholder that came with the frame. But I can’t ignore him for too long. And now he’ll percolate in my brain for hours.

“Lee!” Kat wraps her arms around me before pulling away. “We’ll be close.”

“Maybe,” I shrug. “We’ll see how fast it takes Max and his swimmers to pull it off. Besides, I’m only having one to your three.” I’m not sure triplets are functionally practical, although nature doesn’t really ask you these things, it merely acts, and you
react
—like with Mitch dying.

“So about a month with Eli?” Kat picks at a loose thread on her maternity jeans. Her eyes stray as a trio of surfers strut by, one has a longboard hitched over his head with red and blue stripes that run the length of it.

I feel horrible telling her how easy my babies came when she had to move heaven and earth and inflict a double mortgage on herself to do it.

Eli slams his fists into the screen before coming outside and plopping down between us with his dark hair, his bright blue eyes. He squeezes a yellow truck in his hand. He’s all boy just like his daddy. For a while I was paranoid that maybe he was Colt’s, but Eli quickly morphed into a mini version of Max and I let that insane idea go.

I glance back at Stella, still at the kitchen table, drawing in a sketchbook that Sheila brought over a few days ago.

“You know—I take that back,” I say. “It might have been when we got home.” Max and I went to Turks and Caicos for our honeymoon, never did see the sun or sand with the exception of when the plane was landing. An erotic heat wave washes over me with the memory. “We went out into the fields—Max was going to show me how the new bird nets worked. I was afraid they’d choke out the vines. Anyway it started to rain, and Max thought it was a good idea to mud wrestle.” I close my eyes, lost in the memory—Max and me rolling around the crimson soil—his tongue tracking over my chest in long fiery strokes. “I’m positive it was that day.” I push my finger to my lips. “God. It just hit me. I made a baby with Max Shepherd in Townsend field. I was defiling sacred ground and didn’t even realize it.” I give a guilty smile down at Eli.

“Oh, come on,” Kat starts, “you should be used to pissing on Mitch’s proverbial grave by now. You’re still living in the same house with a man he wouldn’t cross the street for.”

“Stop.” I avert my eyes. Kat knows she can get away with verbally murdering Mitch over and over in a weak attempt at humor. It’s my fault because I let her. I like hearing his name—talking about him as though he were real. He doesn’t feel real anymore. Maybe that’s the biggest heartbreak of all. “You’re not funny. Besides, it’s my house and they’re my fields, have been for years. Mine
and
Max’s.” Once we married, I made sure everything turned into a joint venture. “I guess it was just a good year for babies. Maybe we should start a new line of bottles—the fertility series.”

“You’re terrible. And late with production.” She taps her belly.

“Please,” I balk. “You’ll have three underfoot driving you crazy, wishing you had none, and then, poof, you’ll get pregnant again on your own. Happens all the time. You’ll have six or seven before you know it.”

She gurgles a laugh while shoveling a chip full of salsa into her mouth. Her honey butter hair curves under her chin. She’s chopped off the locks of her youth but I’ve held onto mine. It’s almost down my back. I can’t seem to part with it. I like looking in the mirror and recognizing this version of myself as the one that Mitch knew. In a small way it helps keep him around. I’ve already changed my husband, my name, rearranged my family, a part of me needs to recognize the girl in the mirror.

“Guess who else is having a baby?” I almost forgot all about the latest Shepherd family scandal.

“Who?”

“Our favorite centerfold.” Hudson’s new girlfriend, an ex-stripper named Candi with an ‘i’ is the glorified dancer in question. She spells her name out as a part of her introduction. “You think she’s ditzy
now
? I think all of Mono should fear for its safety once her hormones kick in. A pregnant brain is a very real thing.”

“All knocked up with Shepherd dough to blow, huh? How long have they been together?”

“Three months. That’s like a fiftieth anniversary in Hudson relationship years.”

“Any word on that other kid of his?” Kat snarls as if Jackie kidnapping Joshua was somehow Hudson’s fault. Probably was.

“Hasn’t seen him in over two years. She’s moved to North Carolina permanently. Enrolled him in school and everything.”

“Oh my gosh. That’s terrible.”

“One would think. But Hudson doesn’t seem to mind. It’s killing his mom, though. Max is pretty upset, too. He wants to plan a trip out after Christmas.”

“He’s a good uncle.”

“Max is good at everything—for sure he’s a better dad than Hudson any day. Weird thing is, I don’t think Jackie and Hudson ever filed for divorce.” Eli rides his truck up my leg, tickling me in the process. “Hey you!” I pick him up and bounce him on my knee, watch as his baby fine hair wafts in the breeze and fans out like a plume of ebony feathers.

“So”—Kat cinches her cheek up one side—“how’s Stella doing in preschool?”

“Loves it. Max and I cried her first day, and she didn’t even wave goodbye.”

“You’re a brave girl, Stella.” Kat shields her eyes from the sun struggling to break through the haze.

“I hear you,” she shouts from inside.

“She hears everything,” I whisper. “I have to spell out all my naughty thoughts now.”

“Like?”

“Like none of your f-u-c-k-i-n-g business.” I laugh.

“Bet Max enjoys those.”

“More than you’ll ever know.” A private smile curves my lips. “Max has a dirty streak a mile wide, and I love every naughty inch of it.”

“I’ve always suspected Max Shepherd was a freak.” She bites down over a chip and raises her brows.

I lean back and watch the waves roll in, one by one, chaffing against the sand in a constant surge of anger. A lone surfer paddles out, and from the back, he reminds me of Mitch—same golden hair, same broad shoulders, defined biceps. There he is again. Drifting away from me as if that were his destiny all along. From here I can fool myself into believing it really is him.

Phantom Mitch hops up on the board. He catches a small wave only to abort the mission and pencil dives into the water.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Kat always knows.

“I can’t help it.” Mitch is like a hurricane that ripped through my life. So glorious and wonderful at first, then he blew it apart—left me with the devastation. Hurricane Mitch—not sure that’s the legacy he would have wanted.

Kat leans in. She twirls my hair at the base with an apprehensive smile. “You never really made peace with him, did you,” she whispers.

Eli squirms and bucks until I put him back down by my feet. Same sweet dimples, same intense eyes as Max.

I have a beautiful girl, a beautiful boy, a husband who would set himself on fire for me—then why in the hell do I feel so unsettled?

“Maybe I haven’t made peace with him.” I stare out at the lone surfer as he traverses a wave—rides it until it funnels out. He stands on his board a second before sinking back into the water then disappears from the planet just like Mitch.

It’s true. I strapped Mitch’s carcass to my back and have been dragging him around silently for years. He’s the ghost in the bedroom during those intimate moments between Max and me. I still see the hurt in his eyes every time I look at Colt. I’ve let him down. I can feel it.

“Let go, Lee. Forgive him. He didn’t die to piss you off,” she whispers it sweetly like only a sister can.

The surfer garners my attention again. I forgive you, Mitch. Your wave petered out. It trickled to nothing. God called you home. I can’t drag this lingering pain around anymore. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Colt’s. It just happened.

Stella runs out, fanning the picture she’s been working on. Her golden curls spring up as she jumps into my lap. I kiss her face as she wiggles in my arms. Mitch hides there in her eyes, but I pretend not to see him.

“Hon, this is beautiful!” I marvel at the four smiling stick figures, the sun in full bloom overhead.

“It’s me, you, Daddy and Eli,” she sings.

Colorful poppies surround us against a field of green.

“I love it,” I say, kissing her hair. “We’re a perfect family.”

She didn’t draw Mitch. She never does.

He’s out of the equation forever.

And yet, deep down inside, I still feel unsettled.

Mitch

Darkness covers me like a shroud. I’ve spent the last fourteen days straight in the belly of the wicked whale. No light, less food, even less desire to keep breathing—all hope is gone—nothing but Mitch in a foxhole.

I shift the weight from one knee to the other as I try to explain a few things to God. For instance, I’m almost okay with Him leaving me here
.
I know He has a higher
purpose—I
hope
He has a higher purpose. And if He doesn’t have a higher purpose, I suggest He think one up real quick.

It hurts a little too much knowing I’m sinking my life in this dungeon, losing all that time with Lee and our baby, missing my mom and brother for nothing. I don’t really need to know there’s a higher purpose, I just need there to be one. And—if he’s got a thread of mercy left in Him today, I hope He gets me on the
next plane out.

I lie back down and close my eyes. It’s Lee time. We walk our yellow lab. Have coffee before the kids get up. I usually don’t make love to Lee so close to sunrise, but this morning she’s entertaining me by taking off her clothes. I give a little smile. Damn it all to hell, Lee. What are you doing to me?